


request another dream

by lismicro



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Breakfast, Chopsticks, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, First Kiss, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-23
Updated: 2016-08-23
Packaged: 2018-08-10 14:59:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7849609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lismicro/pseuds/lismicro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zarya and Mei rise early, make breakfast and talk. About the past, and about the future.</p>
            </blockquote>





	request another dream

It’s too early to be awake.

The world outside is still dark as Zarya leaves the gym, a towel slung over her shoulder and sweat sticking to her skin. Blood still pumping in her temples and a tingle in every joint- she’s pushed herself this morning, and she feels it. But each step eases the tight, deep burn in her muscles, and Zarya only pauses to open the nearest window.

The first deep breath- ach, she’d almost forgotten. They’d arrived in Egypt yesterday for a mission, after being in Nepal for two months. Their base is seemingly right in the middle of desert, halfway buried in the dunes.

Zarya wrinkles her nose in distaste. Snow is infinitely preferable to sand. And wind, and snakes, and the mind-numbingly terrible heat that will melt all of them soon enough.

Grumbling, she shuts the window and makes her way to the kitchen.

It’s places like this that almost- almost- make her appreciate that how early a soldier’s day began- often before sunrise, before coffee, before the rest of the world even remembered what daytime looked like, she would be in the gym or in the showers with the rest of her squad. Their tasks were fairly fixed, but their schedules were not. So when the first order of the day involved a three-hour perimeter check before morning watch, she was used to slamming back something strong (regardless of the hour) and just doing what was asked of her.  

After years of that, waking up for the pleasure of a hard workout was a piece of ca-

A huge yawn threatens to knock her over and she stumbles, steadying herself against the wall.

Ah, well. It’s a process.

Overwatch operates in rotating shifts. They’re still too small and undersupplied to do otherwise, with a single HQ and not enough operatives to possibly staff any of the other abandoned stations scattered across the globe. So they keep moving, doing what they can in one area before Talon rallies their considerable forces and Overwatch leaves for the next front. They’re more of an annoyance than a real threat right now, but their numbers swell by the day, and Zarya herself is evidence that their calls to action have reached every corner of the globe. All sorts of people joining now. She doesn’t have the strangest origin story, not by a long shot.

It’s fine. She’s faced greater odds, worked for less righteous people. So long as they all stay alive, Overwatch will keep having chances to do good. That’s the most she has learned to hope for.

A clattering of pots and pans and a faint mechanical chirping from the kitchen. Zarya turns the corner, curious. Who else would be up at this hour?

It’s Mei, out of her usual heavy coat and dressed as casually as Zarya herself.

They’ve only been on a few missions together since _Dr. Mei-Ling Zhou_ arrived a few weeks ago, but she is certainly not new to Overwatch- she’s too familiar with Angela and Winston to not have known them before. From the debriefing, Zarya knows she is a renowned climatologist, dedicated to preserving all sorts of natural ecosystems from human and omnic destruction alike. A daunting task for someone so small and…soft.

And everyone has a story. Zarya’s eyes fall on the back of Mei’s neck, an expanse of skin that was always bundled up by fur. There’s a distinct discoloration there, and Zarya’s hackles rise as she recognizes exactly what it is.

Frostbite. What had happened to her, to cause a scar like that?

Mei turns to grab a spoon from the counter, and Zarya looks down and then up, at her relaxed posture, at the smooth curves of her torso and hips, the tendril of dark hair that’s slipped out of her usual bun. The lights in the kitchen are dim in the early morning, soft shadows dappling Mei in grey and white. The look of grim determination etched onto her face during missions is nowhere to be found, replaced by a peaceful half-smile almost too small to discern. But it is there, and it is lovely.

Strange. Their recent schedule hasn’t allowed much time for socializing, but surely, _surely_ Zarya would have noticed such things before.

Mei still hasn’t seen her from where she stands in the doorways and it’s only when that little robot of hers makes an inquisitive beep in her direction that she realizes she has been staring at Mei for entirely too long. She shakes her head furiously and bites back an actual, verbal scolding. To herself.

_You stop this right now. She is your colleague._

Instead, Zarya clears her throat and taps on the wall to get Mei’s attention, and promptly flushes to the roots of her hair when Mei turns and smiles happily upon seeing her.

“Oh, good morning, Aleksandra! I’m sorry, I thought I would be the only one up at this hour.”

Zarya whips the towel off her shoulder and drapes it over the nearest chair.

“I did not expect you to be awake either. I wanted to test the training facilities here before Reinhardt had a chance to break the equipment this time. They are excellent; for now.”

Mei laughs, and seeing it, her robot chirps happily and settles itself back on top of the refrigerator.

“You must be very diligent, to be up this early to train. I just like the quiet.”

“Hah, you also understand. So many of us, it is difficult to get solitary gym time. You do not get muscles like these without constant practice.”

She flexes automatically, and blinks when a sudden blush also appears on Mei’s cheeks. _Oh._

“Well, would you like some breakfast then? It would be very easy to double the recipe.”

“What are you making?”

“Rice porridge.” She hesitates, shuffles from foot to foot. “Congee, I think Lena calls it. It’s not anything special-“

“I would love some.” Zarya interrupts, and quickly walks to join her at the counter. She has to look down to see Mei’s smile, and for a brief moment, her hand brushes Mei’s arm as they stand together. She is even lovelier up close, close enough that she can no longer steal small glances and fidgets without Mei’s notice. “How can I help?”

“Ah, it takes very little effort. You can hand me that bowl on the top shelf, though.”

Six cups of water, brought to a boil on high heat. Add two cups of rice and a pinch of salt. Lid placed on top and let sit.

That’s it, and Zarya leans back against the counter while Mei starts prepping the rest of breakfast. Steam rising from the cooking rice bathes them both in little droplets of condensation. She licks away the moisture and sees Mei’s little robot- Snowball, that was the name- fuss around Mei until she bats it away playfully.

Zarya is content to wait and watch. It’s peaceful. Too little of that these days.

Eventually, the rice begins to bubble and Mei lifts the lid, stirring slowly with a wooden spoon. When the consistency is right, Zarya is waiting with two porcelain bowls, one considerably larger than the other.

“My old squad captain used to make something similar when we were running low on rations. Terrible cook, he was- somehow even the simplest dish was beyond his grasp. We used to be able to stand a knife straight up in the porridge he made. A full thirty seconds was the platoon record.”

It is wildly premature, but Zarya thinks she will never get tired of making Mei laugh.

“Well, the texture will be better than that, I can say that much. Here, taste.”

She raises the spoon to Zarya’s lips.

Mei’s right- the rice itself is mostly flavorless, and with a consistency not unlike the gruel that they served the Russian Army during winter. But Mei then brings out a jar of preserved something and leaves it to warm in the heat from the stovetop.

Zarya opens the jar and takes an experimental sniff. Spicy. Bamboo shoots and horseradish and cucumber, and probably a host of other things she doesn’t know the names to. Mei looks up from where she’s slicing cold beef and hard-boiled eggs, and nods at the refrigerator.

“If it’s too spicy I brought a milder jar. Sichuan peppercorns can be a little more than people can handle.”

Zarya scoffs and pours some of the condiment into a shallow bowl.

“What do you take me for? I was stationed in Singapore for a tour and you cannot get more spicy than green chili with rations at every meal of the day. Trust me, I can handle it.”

Mei takes her platters of cold meats and vegetables to the table, touching Zarya quickly on the shoulder.

“Then I am sorry for ever doubting you. We’re almost ready.”

They sit at the massive kitchen table, choosing chairs directly across from each other despite there being many, many other seating options. After everything is set up, Zarya turns to look at Mei, one eyebrow raised in invitation.

Mei flips her chopsticks in a circle before gripping them in the very middle, reaching forward to grasp a piece of horseradish and deposit it on top of her porridge. Zarya takes up her own spoon, and they eat quietly, with only the quiet clicks of metal on porcelain to disturb their peace.

The simple breakfast suits the both of them, and she finds herself thinking that this is the best meal she has had in a very long time.

Everything is well and good until she accidentally bites down on a hot peppercorn hidden in the sauce, and then it takes three mouthfuls of rice to extinguish the fire. Zarya looks up through watering eyes to see Mei holding in a laugh.

“You were saying something about a tolerance?”

“I-I admit to being overconfident.” Zarya fans her tongue, taking a slice of cold beef to sooth the burn. It does not work. “You have ice at your command, do you not? Perhaps I can get your little robot to cool me off.”

Snowball pops his little head out of sleep mode at the mention of “robot”, and Mei taps him briefly on the faceplate to get him to pipe down again.

“You know, I designed him to be my portable field assistant, disseminating seeds and such across distances that I could not. I had planned for him to be one of many such robots, all operating semi-independently, but the war interrupted before the prototype could be refined to that degree.”

“Oh? So how did he become a combat model?”

“When seed dispersal wasn’t…useful anymore, I worked with Winston to alter Snowball’s jets to shoot ice instead. The same with my blaster.”

“My particle cannon was somewhat scavenged as well. During a moment of necessity I had to remove it from a tank back during the beginning of the Second Omnic Crisis. That was many years ago, but it still serves me well.”

“How long have you been fighting? If you don’t mind me saying, you don’t seem very old.”

“Hah, I might say the same for you. I was an athlete some time ago, but for the past five years or so I have been a soldier. Mostly in my own Russia, where the Siberian cold does preserve us very well.”

She does not expect it, but Mei’s face suddenly blanches and she visibly begins to shiver, dropping her chopsticks to the table with a clatter. Zarya, alarmed, reaches automatically for her hand, but Mei waves her off, clasping her hands together to stop their trembling.

It does not work.

Zarya is at a loss, halfway getting out of her seat before sitting again, staring helplessly as Mei takes deep breaths, staring at a speck of nothing on the table, and Snowball glides down into her lap with a plaintive chirp. Zarya does not miss the way Mei reaches down to clutch him close.

“I am so sorry, I have offended you-“

“No, no, of course not-“ Mei swallows hard and her face, at once closed off and grim, “you have done nothing wrong. I was just…reminded of something that happened some time ago. You could not have known how it would affect me. Please, it is not your fault.”

“I- I do not wish…. can I do anything?”

Mei says nothing, so Zarya waits.

They stare at their laps for a tense, awkward minute. The warmth and peace has suddenly fled from the kitchen, to be replaced by Snowball’s soft noises of distress and their own suffocating silence. Zarya hates it- hates that her words have hurt Mei, even unintendedly. She must understand why and make up for this, she _must_.

Not for the first time that morning, she wonders what happened to bring Mei here.

The pause stretches for eons, seemingly, and Zarya almost breaks it half a dozen times.

“You know, where I’m from we have a saying; the higher up you hold your chopsticks, the farther away you’ll go from home.” Mei says, suddenly. Haltingly. She picks them up again, tracing the flower pattern along one face.

Zarya watches, transfixed, as Mei slides her fingers down until the chopsticks are teetering in her grasp, fingertips brushing the spicy chili oil left in the dish.

“So I used to burn my fingers on my food as a child, holding them all the way down here, at the base. Because I never wanted to leave. I never wanted to be away from my friends, my home, my family.  The people I loved.” 

“I-“ Zarya scrambles for something to say. Her usual methods of comfort involve a bottle of vodka and time spent alone- clearly that will not work here. Mei’s eyes begin to well up with tears and she banishes them with a quick, angry swipe from her hand. “I’m sorry that you cannot be home.”

“We have killed… a lot of people. I don’t know how many of them deserved it. Maybe they were all brainwashed or forced into what they were doing, or perhaps they never even knew. I cannot- I was not made for fighting. I was away and then I come back to this world, this terrible world where killing people somehow means peace. I do not understand. I do not want to understand.”

Zarya has seen Mei headshot an enemy sniper from a hundred meters with her endothermic blaster. She has seen her freeze whole squads in place. In the heat of battle, she has seen Mei use an ice wall to  catapult an infantry line over a cliff and onto the rocks below. Zarya has never imagined that any of it came easy.

“Regardless of their intentions, they do not show mercy for us, when we cross them. If we cannot rescue the entire world, then we must make these kinds of decisions. We must manage collateral damage as best we can. If we cannot save everyone, then we can only hope to save the better ones.”

Mei’s face does not change its expression.

Zarya runs a hand through her hair and sighs heavily. Think, Aleksandra. Think.

It comes to her in bits and pieces.

“You are not a soldier. They- We,” she starts, then corrects, “are not inclined to be merciful.”

“And why should you be?” Mei retorts. “I am not a child. I understand that fighting is the necessary means to our end.” She abruptly drops her chopsticks back into her bowl. “This is not accomplishing anything-“

“I did not finish.” Zarya says, gently, and before she can stop herself she’s grasped Mei’s hand where it’s anxiously drumming along the side of her bowl. Her fingers still. “This is not the future that I intended, either. When the omnics invaded Russia I was called to fight, for those could not defend themselves should war come to their door. It was spring, and the crocuses were blooming.”

Mei’s eyes crinkle. “Crocuses aren’t native to Russia.”

“You are correct. This was in a greenhouse, the realm of scientists like yourself, preserving what they could of the world even near a military base. Where people from the local villages could come to bring home seeds of their own. And of course, so that soldiers could have flowers for…certain activities.”

Mei smiles, splutters a little through a few remaining tears. “That sounds lovely.”

“It _was_ lovely. And I have never been convinced that war is a good thing, and I have never felt guilty for protecting my country. But we also need people like you to keep the destruction in check, and to replant the crocuses once the fighting has stopped. When all feels hopeless and we have all become too accustomed to killing, we will need you to remind us of the world that once was and could once again be possible.”

Zarya rubs the back of her neck, clasping at the short strands of her hair. A rush of shyness threatens to still her tongue but she presses on, unable to meet Mei’s eyes.

“I suppose what I’m trying to say is- thank you for being here. I know it is a choice you have made, to be with Overwatch. When we are done- I hope you get to return home to China and continue your life’s work. Because you choose to be here, to do the things we all must- that work will not always be fighting. You are not a soldier, but you are no less of a hero.”

She does not know if Mei is simply thinking, or simply cannot respond for a moment.

“You have chosen this path as well.” Mei finally looks at her with dark, kind eyes, and Zarya’s heart gives a sudden wrench in her chest when Mei reaches forward to take one of Zarya’s large hands in both of hers. She traces the thick calluses along the palm and the hard ridges of her knuckles, before tracing up and down the lengths of her fingers. Presses lightly at the scars from years of fighting. Zarya can hardly breathe.

“You dislike omnics but you work with Zenyatta and Bastion. You chose to leave your home and use your strength for this greater purpose. You have protected all of us when we fight, sometimes at the price of your own safety. Perhaps this is too early to say, but- I know you will be with me, when that time of rebuilding comes. I-I have needed to hear that I am not alone in this.”

She releases Zarya’s hand and despite her disappointment, Zarya nods firmly. “Our world is worth fighting for.”

Mei smiles once again, and the sight is lovelier than the first winter snow. “Well put.”

And suddenly, the mood has lifted, and they grin foolishly at each other from across the table with the remains of breakfast between them, all at once happier and more somber than before. Zarya breathes deep. A weight has lifted from her shoulders, but the change in Mei has thrown her shoulders back and replaced the sparkle in her eye, and when she laughs for the sheer joy of it Zarya can’t help but join in.

Just for a moment.

“Thank you. For…this.”

“You are welcome. Thank you for breakfast.”

Around them, the tell-tale sounds of waking fill the base. Dimly, Zarya hears an alarm ringing in medical labs. Angela is the likely suspect, rising early to begin patient rounds. Soon, the entirety of Overwatch will rush into the kitchen to begin the ritual destruction of all the food in stock. Reluctantly, Zarya stands up from the table and gathers their empty dishes, dropping them in the sink.  

Before she begin washing up, however, a touch on her shoulder turns her around.

Mei grasps her arm and leans as far up as she can, and unthinkingly, Zarya turns her head to the side as she leans down to catch whatever Mei is trying to whisper in her ear. Instead she hears a soft giggle and then the warm press of lips to her cheek. Then another, closer to the corner of her mouth.

“You weren’t supposed to move.”

No, that won’t do at all. So Zarya wraps one arm around Mei’s waist, lifts her onto the counter, and kisses her properly.

So soft. Mei is soft all over where their bodies press tightly together, warm and trembling as her hands reach Zarya’s jaw and she is held in place, gently, as they kiss again, then once more. Zarya can span her entire back with two hands, can feel Mei’s heartbeat under her palms. The hot swipe of her tongue against Mei’s bottom lip makes the thrum erratic, and the soft sigh Zarya releases when Mei’s hands cradle her face makes it slow once again.

She cannot focus on anything but Mei’s lips on hers. She cannot think properly. She cannot begin to make words for how full she feels right now.

They break for air and Mei looks at her wordlessly, before removing her glasses and settling their foreheads together, eyes shut tight and lips just barely brushing. Zarya’s mind spins with the possibilities.

Behind them, the sun is coming up.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "I Need a Forest Fire" by James Blake, and written for a dear friend. Please do leave a comment if you can- hearing from you makes my day!


End file.
